


Under Your Skin

by Mirianna



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Body Worship, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirianna/pseuds/Mirianna
Summary: While in a bar with Phasma and Hux, Kylo Ren makes a discovery that will upset his world more than he could imagine.French Translation ofÀ fleur de peau





	Under Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [A Fleur de Peau](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6772915) by [jesuisbetejesuispatissiere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisbetejesuispatissiere/pseuds/jesuisbetejesuispatissiere). 



> Huge thanks to everyone that helped me put this together, [aconsultingmind](http://aconsultingmind.tumblr.com/), [coeurd-art-ichaut](http://coeurd-art-ichaut.tumblr.com/), [doremi391](http://doremi391.tumblr.com/) &  
> [huxes](http://huxes.tumblr.com/)!

As soon as his foot crossed the threshold of the bar, Kylo Ren was immediately seized with the irrepressible urge to turn around and never come back. Nothing in there was even remotely close to something he appreciated. He disliked the loud noises, crowds, the upbeat music blasting too loudly from the speakers hidden in the walls. He disliked even more the oppressive, dimmed, red lights, only made darker by the visor from his helmet, which gave him the impression of being trapped inside a ship on high-alert mode. Nor was he a huge fan of the clammy heat making his wool coat sticky with humidity, the suffocating odour of perspiration, barely filtered by his helmet, or even the presence of those accompanying him. Or to be more precise, the ones he was accompanying. He was keenly aware that he was the third wheel here.

And it was precisely because of them that he wasn't turning around right now. It would have made him look weak. Which he was; that he knew. He groaned internally. He should have refused on the spot, because now it was too late to bolt out. So he put his head down and followed Hux and Phasma, cutting their way with confidence through the dancing crowd and toward a free table.

It was Phasma who had invited him to join them. Probably to piss Hux off or something. Whatever the reason was, it had surprised Kylo so much that his brain went on strike for a minute and he heard his voice saying yes before he could stop it. He tried to convince himself it had been a good decision. First, just for the face Hux had made. His usual pinched countenance face had transformed into an expression akin to one he would have made if Kylo had dropped a pile of Tauntaun manure on the doorstep of his private quarters. Second, because the Resurrection Festival was the only First Order holiday, celebrating the date of the foundation of the organisation, and the station where the Finalizer was docked would be crawling with soldiers. Kylo knew his mere presence would make them all uneasy, and ruining the leaves of a bunch of drunken soldiers seemed like a good way to make this night better. It would be a welcome change from the training, the long walks across the flagship, and the monologues to his grandfather’s helmet that usually occupied his free time.

But deep down, Kylo Ren knew it was all a bunch of excuses. He had said yes on the spot simply because he had been so shocked. Touched even. No one had ever invited him to any events before. Quickly, he had to repress the memories of Ben Solo’s birthday that his mo- that Leia had organised every year, with only the close family present, since Ben had no friends.

This was why he couldn't resist saying yes. Even if the invitation had only been a joke at Hux’s expense, it didn't change the fact that for the first time in his life, someone had invited Kylo Ren to be part of a group just for the quality of his presence and not because of his powers.

As they approached the table, Kylo debated whether his social graces would be in top form tonight. He wasn't the most sociable man in the Galaxy, but then again, Hux was hardly better. As for Phasma, she had her moments, but they were few and far between. Now that it was actually happening the night was looking to be rather long and painful — especially since Kylo had no intention of taking off his helmet. This meant no drinks or food for him; but it didn't really matter. He’d never been particularly interested in alcohol — and besides, his companions had never seen his face, which was perfectly fine with him. He wasn't comfortable with his features or their extreme expressivity, of which he was painfully aware, and hated. 

He clenched his gloved fists. He had survived worse; he could survive this.

Arriving at the table, he couldn’t stop himself from hesitating. It was small and round, with and a single candle burning in the center. It was flanked with a half-circle booth where Phasma and Hux had already taken their seats. The Stormtrooper Captain was settled on one side, her long legs sprawling toward the dancing floor. Hux was on one side of her, leaving Kylo with only one spot: right next to the General.

A drunk man solved Kylo’s dilemma for him by bumping into him as he staggered across the floor. The Master of the Knights of Ren turned toward him, straightening his back, puffing his chest, and wheezing so loudly under his helmet it was audible even over the music. The man froze. Kylo took this chance to lean toward him, his helmet a few centimeters away from the man’s face. The drunk lowered his head, and Kylo was pretty sure he’d just pissed himself. That made him smirk. Proof of his power was always satisfying. He held the pose a few seconds, then turned around abruptly, as if bestowing a moment’s mercy on the man (who vanished, quietly and wisely, from the scene). Kylo then realized that the crowd had suddenly thinned around him. People were avoiding him. He was scary. It was quite nice to be reminded of that fact.

Reinvigorated by the incident, he settled down next to Hux. In the end, being this close to him might not be as bad as he’d originally thought. Kylo would eventually find a reason to give him or one or two kicks to in the ankles and if he was accurate enough, he might even break some bones. Nothing would be more satisfying than seeing the proud officer stumbling around on the bridge of his ship. Or, even better, having the joy of seeing him being transported from one side to the other of the Finalizer: all of the people under him taking turns moving him around in a wheelbarrow. Kylo could practically see it now, and the thought was hopelessly amusing. He’d do his best to make it happen tonight.

“I’ll have a Boga Noga,” Phasma announced with conviction, handing the laminated menu to a sneering Hux.

“How can you even swallow that stuff?” Hux asked, grabbing the menu with a disgusted face.

Even if the menu had been dirtied by the fingers of previous customers, Hux was wearing his leather gloves, as always; there was no way he could really feel it. But the face didn’t surprise Kylo: Hux always made it clear whenever anything repulsed him (and almost everything did).

“I'm a force of nature,” replied Phasma easily as she crossed her muscled arms, a smirk playing on her lips.

Kylo had only seen her without her helmet a handful of times, and he was always stunned by the softness of her face compared to her strict professional demeanor and the coolness she was capable of displaying on the battlefield.

(But then, he supposed Phasma would probably be just as surprised if she discovered his face, far from the deformed horror or cold exterior of which the rumours spoke.)

“I’ll have an Ambrostine,” said Hux, shoving the menu under Kylo’s nose without looking at him. 

Phasma burst out laughing.

“Are you sure?” 

“Completely,” Hux asserted frostily, staring at her as if daring her to say more — which she did, completely unfazed. 

It was something that Kylo admired about Phasma, the way she never let anybody above her rank or strength intimidate her. If he was being honest with himself, he could extend this idea and admit that he appreciated the fact that Hux never let anyone intimidate him, either, and had never shown an ounce of fear of Kylo or any weakness in front of Snoke. But sometimes, Kylo just didn't _want_ to be honest with himself. Especially where the general was concerned. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some Corellian whiskey a little better?” Phasma teased, one eyebrow raised.

Hux cocked his head to one side, indicating the end of the discussion

“I don't know why I’d go to a bar to drink something I have plenty of in my own quarters,” he replied scathingly, waving the menu harder at Kylo’s helmet.

“Nothing for me.” 

Hux rolled his eyes and dropped the menu on the table. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on keeping that thing on your head all night.” 

Kylo didn’t reply. He didn't have to justify himself to anybody, especially not Hux. 

Phasma hailed the Twi’lek waitress, whose blue skin contrasted prettily with the red light.

“One Boga Noga and one Ambrostine,” she announced.

“And a water with a splash of grenadine and a straw for our teenager over here,” Hux added, with a poker face so good it was hard to tell if he was being mean or completely serious.

The Twi’lek quickly sized Kylo up, nodding, and then turned to leave. before nodding as she left.

“ _You_ will be paying for the grenadine,” Phasma said pointedly to Hux.

“As if,” Hux countered, frowning. “May I remind you that it was your brilliant idea to invite him?”

“Invite him to join us _in theory,_ yes. I didn’t expect him to actually show up. How do you even know if he likes grenadine?”

“Do you like grenadine?” Hux asked, finally looking at Kylo.

Kylo forced himself to stay stoic, although he desperately wanted to grab the general by his over-gelled hair and introduce his face to the tabletop, as violently as possible. Mean comments and snarls, Kylo could tolerate, but being treated like a child was another story. He had fought against his family for a long time in order to be treated in the manner owed to someone with his powers, and not like a scared, shy little boy. In the end, he had failed, and had left them instead, to start a new life where he would earn the respect knew he deserved. Still, he hated it when someone reminded him of that past; and Hux had the gift of always knowing which of his buttons to press. 

(He couldn’t have answered the general anyway: Kylo had never drunk grenadine before.)

Faced with his persistent silence, Hux rolled his eyes and turned away. A few minutes later, the waitress was back with a full, heavy-looking tray. She placed a big glass filled with a brown foamy drink in front of Phasma, a thinner one with a golden liquid inside for Hux, and, last but not least, a glass exactly like the ones used aboard the Finalizer, filled with a pink drink, sticking out of which was a cheerfully striped straw. 

Kylo noticed the hand of the Twi’lek was shaking as she set the grenadine down in front of him. At least _she_ was scared of him: it wasn’t much, but it was _something_.

Phasma grabbed her glass and raised it in the air. “To the First Order!” she sang out with enthusiasm.

Voices from the table next to them echoed the toast, followed by the clinking of glasses. 

“To the First Order!” Hux replied before bringing the golden liquid to his lips.

Kylo stayed silent, not even bothering to reach for his grenadine. Even though he was starting to get very thirsty. And very hot. But he wasn’t going to take off his coat any more than his helmet. He had a standard to maintain. And he certainly wasn’t going to open his mask just to bring the straw to his mouth. _That,_ Ren imagined, would just make Hux’s evening. 

No; Kylo would be strong, as he always had to be. He would endure the heat, the thirst and the bad company, only to emerge more powerful from this ordeal — or, at least, coming out without humiliating himself would be a good start. 

Phasma took a long sip of her mysterious brew and slammed the glass down on the table, where it thudded heavily.

“Wow!” she yelled. “This stuff clears out your sinuses, that’s for sure!” Her cheeks were already flushed from the strength of the alcohol.

Hux shook his head and sipped slowly from his glass. A small smile was spreading across his lips. 

“It’s been ages since I last had this drink,” he commented, studying under the spotlight the color of his drink.

“Well,” Phasma piped up, _“I_ remember perfectly the last time you drank Ambrostine.”

She nodded slowly, as if recalling a pleasant memory. Kylo knew there was a story somewhere behind this, and quite desperately wanted to hear more. But he bit his lips to restrain himself from asking the question burning on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he kept on silently observing his two companions, who looked more relaxed than he had ever seen them.

Hux seemed lost in his thoughts. Kylo wondered if there was a one-night stand story behind all this. His gaze went from Phasma to Hux: they weren’t paying attention to him anymore. How easy it would be for him to slip in their heads and get the story! To know if Hux, with more Ambrostine than blood in his veins, had made a pass at Phasma. It made Kylo want to dump his drink all over the general’s pristine uniform.

“I remember, too,” Hux admitted after a long silence. “Partially,” he amended shaking his head. “Very partially.”

Phasma burst out in genuine laughter. Her beer was already two-thirds empty. “Do you still have it?” she asked, leaning towards Hux.

He put his glass on the table and folded his hands in front of him. “Surprisingly, yes,” he admitted after a dramatic pause. “I thought I'd get rid of it quickly, but it rather grew on me.”

Kylo leaned closer to Hux almost without thinking, needing to follow the conversation. The straw brushed against his chest and he pushed back his glass with an impatient gesture. He had no idea what Phasma and Hux were talking about, and curiosity was beginning to drive him mad.

This greedy interest was a weakness, he knew but he needed to know all the same, especially because this newest piece of information didn’t fit with his original theory of a one night stand. (And anyway, he couldn’t picture Hux and Phasma together. She was way out of his league.)

“Show it to me!” Phasma demanded, reaching a hand out toward Hux, who quickly retreated to the back of the booth.

“Oh, no. I’m not nearly drunk enough for that.” 

She grabbed his glass of Ambrostine and shoved it in his hand. “Let’s fix that, then!” 

Hux shook his head, but still finished his drink in one chug.

They ordered the same thing from the Twi’lek when she next came by, and she returned quickly with fresh drinks. A second glass of grenadine appeared next to Kylo’s first one, still full. It made Phasma laugh; Hux looked exasperated. Kylo ignored them. His brain was going into overdrive with this Ambrostine story. 

But it was only after Hux finished his second glass that Kylo worked up the nerve to to bring it up again. If only he knew _how._ The conversation between Hux and Phasma had completely changed topic, and they were now comparing the merits of X-wings versus TIE fighters. The two First Order officers were incredibly unfair on that topic. Kylo knew enough about both ships to admit that both had strengths and that X-Wings weren’t the awful, outdated rust buckets Hux’s haughty words about them would suggest.

His gloved fingers drummed a nervous beat on the table. Since he didn’t knew how to bring the subject back on the Ambrostine story in a cool and casual way, Kylo decided he’d do it the only way he _did_ know how; by shoving a foot in his mouth.

He took a deep breath, which resulted in a shrill hissing on the outside of his helmet. The music prevented his companions from hearing the noise. Kylo leaned toward Hux, his helmet very close to his face. "What happened last time you drank Ambrostine?" he asked. 

Kylo resisted the urge to clench his fists. He didn’t know why the story was so important to him. Perhaps because he sensed that it could be an easy way to make fun of Hux, or put pressure on him; or perhaps only because it was clear that the General was reluctant to approach the subject.

“Damnit Ren!” Hux cried out, jumping back abruptly. He had not heard the breathing of the mask next to his ear, and was startled when Ren spoke. 

Phasma chuckled: "Yes, yes! I’d almost forgotten! Well played, Lord Ren.” 

She saluted him with her beer before draining it and raising the mug in the air, signalling to the waitress.Then she turned back to Hux, who was staring hard at his empty glass. He seemed to want to ignore his two companions surrounding him like predators hungry for gossip.

"So you’ll tell him?" Phasma insisted.

“No.”

Hux's answer seemed clear, final and non-negotiable. Kylo decided that, if Hux wouldn’t tell it to him, he would go find the answer himself – even if it put the whole First Order against him, Snoke included. 

Phasma shrugged. "Well, if you won’t tell him, I'll do it myself."

Hux sighed. He raised his empty glass in the direction of the waitress. "If you must," he conceded with resignation.

Kylo was surprised to see him surrender that quickly. Perhaps it was the alcohol that gave his eyes that spark, or maybe the fatigue accumulated by his long hours of work on the bridge of the Finalizer, or possibly a mixture of both. Still, even when Phasma began the story, Hux's face seemed surprisingly relaxed. Kylo even detected a slight smile on his full lips, as if, after consideration, the story pleased him and he would even have told it himself, if only Kylo had insisted further.

"Our story begins," said Phasma emphatically, leaning over the table, her gaze plunging deep into Kylo's visor, “the day Colonel Hux became General Hux.”

The candlelight illuminating her from below gave her face a golden hue that reminded Kylo of the evenings around a campfire in the company of Skywalker. He dismissed the thought: it was a memory that did not belong to him.

"The former Colonel Hux," continued Phasma, "was very proud to now be a General, to say the least.”

“The youngest general ever appointed by the First Order, no less,” Hux retorted, grabbing his new glass from the waitress and taking a long sip.

"We only heard that once or twice," Phasma said sarcastically, shaking her head. _“Youngest general_ this, _youngest general_ that. And blah-blah-blah, so on and so forth; you know how he is once he gets started.”

Kylo nodded. Hux liked the sound of his own voice: one only had to look (or, rather, listen) to his passionate and endless speeches for proof. 

“Anyway, accompanied by a few comrades,” Phasma continued, “here is our newly- appointed general, touring bar after bar and downing Ambrostine after Ambrostine. Until…”

Hux raised a hand to silence her. Kylo blinked, surprised at the interruption. He realized that he he’d been holding his breath, and moistened his lips nervously with a quick swipe of his tongue. Even if he could hardly imagine a blitheful Hux going bar-hopping. The only way he would have imagined Hux celebrating anything was with other officers in some luxurious room in a beautiful house, glass of brandy in hand, laughing derisory at everything. This evening, of course, was an exception engineered by Phasma’s machiavellian mind. 

"Until," resumed Hux, "I lost all memory of the evening and woke up the next day with a redoubtable hangover and _this_ on my arm.”

The gloved fingers of his right hand moved towards his left sleeve with grace. He briskly pushed back the fabric, revealing his wrist and the greater part of his forearm, upon which were tattooed the four bands of a general’s rank insignia.

Kylo's breath was taken away, his heart racing his chest. It wasn’t the simple fact of finding a tattoo on Hux’s body that deeply disturbed him, although it was certainly a surprise, and something he would have never bet a single credit on it. But all of it was quickly swept away in his mind. No: what disturbed him the most was to see more of Hux's body exposed. Even a part as tiny as the one he had just discovered.

For as long as he could remember, Kylo had always known Hux dressed from head to toe, from the collar that ensconced his neck to the tip of his gloved hands and the point of his boots. That of his face was the only skin the general ever seemed to show. And even if Kylo knew perfectly well that under these layers of fabric a warm living body was hidden, he had never _imagined_ it. Having it before him suddenly made everything all too real, too concrete.

Gulping down with difficulties, Kylo let his eyes roam over the fragile wrist, so thin he was sure he could double around it with his long fingers. As his forearm, it was only slightly thicker and the pallor of his his skin was the tell tale of someone who hadn’t seen the sun for years. The contrast with the black bands of the tattoo was only more visually striking.

Kylo’s hands started to shake and he crossed them on the table in front of him to hide it. He was also suffocating. Really bad. But he was so enraptured by Hux’s forearm on display to look anywhere else.

His fingers were itching to touch the milky white skin, to discover its softness, it’s warmth. His imagination was going wild with the thoughts of what was hidden, if only Hux would push his sleeve a bit higher to unveil his elbow. There was also the matter of his glove begging to be tugged off of him. 

Kylo’s face was on fire and he didn’t know if he should curse the way his mask makes him suffocate under the heat or praise the fact it’s hiding his emotions.He bit his lips when Hux lowered his sleeve, hiding to his disappointment both the tattoo and the few centimeters of skin that were exposed. 

“I think that shut him up for good.” Phasma said but it sounded very faint to Kylo’s ears.

“If I’d known it only took so little…”

“Childish,” Ren barely managed to blurt out before jumping up.

His thighs hit the edge of the table as he stood, and both his grenadines fell over, spilling their content on the ground.Hux and Phasma barely had time to save their drinks. But Kylo didn’t see that. He was making a beeline for what he hoped was the exit, but he wasn’t sure. His mask was suffocating. He just needed fresh air. He was pushing everyone in his way with his arms, eyes focus on the first door that caught his attention. The music blasting in his ears was driving him mad, giving him the urge to destroy the walls until everything crumbles and breaks. 

He slammed opened the door so violently it bounced against the wall before closing with a bang, the frame shaking. The two patron at the urinal turned their head as one. Not a word was spoken. Maybe they had recognize him.

Kylo clenched his teeth. He wasn’t outside. Only in the toilets. Despite the overwhelming stench of the piss stagnant in the air, he was feeling better here than in the main room. At least the luminosity wasn’t oppressive, and the music was muffled. It was way less crowded. Most of all, Hux wasn’t here with his stupid white forearm. Stomping forward, Kylo found an empty booth and locked himself in. It wasn’t ideal but he couldn’t do better for now.

Finally, he was able to take his mask off and despite the pestilential smell, took a deep breath in to calm himself or at least, his racing heart, his shaking hands or the spasms of his lower abdomen. 

Kylo might not know a lot about the matters of the heart but he wasn’t a virgin when it came to matters of the flesh. Vala Ren had proved to be a very enthusiastic partner in battles and between the sheets. But the naked sight of the Knight sprawled on his bed at Snoke’s Citadelle had never provoked such a violent reaction such as the one the few centimeters of skin Hux exposed created.

He let himself fall against the metal door who creaked under his weight, and closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to press his hand against his groin. Not here, not now, not like this, and especially not for this. It was weak, pathetic and ridiculous.

His treacherous mind started to wonder what would Hux’s skin taste like if he traced the black bands marking the white skin with his tongue. Would it be sweet or… No! Hux was a bitter man. His skin would be acidic. Kylo could feel the ghost sensation of tingling on his tongue and he bit it down to make it go away.

He remained motionless against the door for a few minutes, getting his breath under control and mopping up his forehead. Drops of sweat were dripping down his nose and he wiped them away furiously. He had not needed to hide in a bathroom since he had been a teenager, after Skywalker had reprimanded him for his violent temper and he could feel the tears filling his eyes.

Those memories however, belonged to someone else. They were Ben’s. Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, didn’t need to run behind a door to hide his troubles. Because he had his mask, his brain supplied sarcastically. No, he deadpanned to himself. Because Kylo Ren had crush any remnants of emotions that the foolish and weak Ben Solo had. Kylo REn had no emotion. And what he had felt for Hux wasn’t nothing like an emotion. It was only... lust. An animalistic instinct need to touch, taste and nothing more.

The mere idea that he could feel any desire toward Hux made him smirk snidefully. It was an absurd idea from beginning to end. Admittedly, he had noticed that the General could have been a man pleasing to the eye, if only his face wasn’t permanently stuck in a mask of condescension and contempt. His perfectly maintained uniform only served to reinforce the mental image Kylo had about him of being a puppet with it’s string wired too tight. The sudden revelation of his fragile wrists and his milky white skin made Hux suddenly human again in his eyes. A human with undeniable charm. 

He sighed and brushed away a few strands of hair stuck on his forehead. He knew he couldn't hide there eternally, caught in his own thoughts, the comings and goings of the patron around him, their intimate noises filling his ears in a more unpleasant way than the music out there. Anyway, things were simple. They’ve been reluctantly working together for months and he never saw more of his flesh than his constipated face. Chances of him seeing more of Hux’s skin were small, if not entirely non-existent. All he had to do was forget what just happened and everything would go back to normal. After all, he was good at compartmentalizing his memories. Or at least, he tried very hard. 

He stared at his helmet held in his left hand for a few seconds. It was heavy and massive, just what he needed to keeps his elusive thoughts locked down. It didn’t stop him from hesitating before putting the helmet back on. It was too stifling last time he had it on his head. And he was parched.

But patrons kept on coming in the toilets and Kylo had no desire to reveal his face so he could reach the sink. Nor did he liked the idea of drinking water from the revolting toilet. Even him wouldn’t stoop so low. Blast it all, he would suffer then. It will not bother him. On the contrary, it will be a fantastic lesson that he would now associate with the feverishness he had shown and was to never happen again. Hux’s skin would only be a faint memory soon. A bad faint memory. An insignificant memory. A memory he would do everything in his power to get rid of.

Putting his helmet back on, Kylo went back to the main room.

When he sat back right next to Hux, the General was leisurely talking with Phasma about the performances of the new Stormtroopers. Kylo found it incredibly boring and too professional. Like any daily meeting on the Finalizer. But the mundanity of the conversation was welcomed. At least his mind was back on familiar territory.

No one spoke a word of his return. No one talked to him again either. He didn’t try to partake in the conversation.

The waitress had moped the grenadine away while he was gone, so he leaned against the table with his arms and waited for the night to end.

|=0=| - - - |=0=| - - - - |=0=| - - - -

That night, Kylo Ren dreamed of the Finalizer. He was roaming down the endless corridors with his fast pace stomping that made the patrolling Stormtroopers crossing his path jump out of his way in fear. He didn’t know where he was going at this pace, nor why he was going there, but he was determined. Quickly, he realised he was on his way to the bridge. When he crossed the threshold, he had to close his eyes because of the blinding light filling the bridge. When his eyes finally adjusted and he was able to look at his surroundings, he realised the star destroyer was cruising very near a sun, it’s brightness filling the observation deck. 

Fascinated despite the alarms going off in his head, he stepped closer. Space was usually freezing. The corridors of the spaceship weren’t that warmer either. Kylo was well dressed with his heavy wool garments and understood very well why Hux was constantly parading around with his great coat. But the rays of the sun beating on the transparisteel was turning the main control room into a boiling furnace. 

Kylo looked around at the men and women surrounding him, all perfectly professional, as usual, but sweating profusely in front of the consoles and control panels. Even he was starting to feel his cheeks turn red under the steel of his helmet and heavy drops of sweat were dripping down to the small of his back. He wondered for a second if it was really dangerous to fly so close to a giant ball of gas. But as much as it pained him to admit it, Hux knew what he was doing when it came down to commanding a ship.

He gazed around looking for the General and finding him near the windows, observing head on the sun threatening to engulf them with it’s flames. 

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” the General asked when he heard Kylo’s heavy footsteps nearing him. “All this raw energy.”

Kylo observed him. Hux’s eyes were wide open and staring without blinking at the fiery eruptions nearly licking the hull of the Finalizer. It looked like he wanted to absorb its power. Which seemed perfectly logical for Kylo. Hux was fascinated with power. He had realised this many times when he had witness the General defending his pet project Starkiller Base to other First Order officers.

“It’s mostly sweltering” Kylo deadpanned.

Hux might have the biggest hard on for solar energy, Kylo, personally, did not waste a single thought on the power of the sun. Only the Force mattered. And he was confident that with enough training, he would be able, with his sole mind, to snuff out Hux’s sun.

“Maybe” the later admitted, emerging from his daydreaming to finally realize that a single drop of sweat was rolling down on his temple.

He lifted his arm to wipe it away and his sleeve, usually perfectly adjusted, slipped down on his arm to reveal his wrist and the first band of his tattoo.

Kylo’s breath got stuck in his throat. Suddenly, the sun wasn’t burning up his skin anymore, but his insides, his lungs, his stomach, his groin, even his brain. And when Hux’s hand lowered to his collar to unbutton it, Kylo woke up startled.

He groaned while turning around, sheet sticking to his moist skin. He could not ignore the erection throbbing between his legs. Fantasming about his lips, his teeth and tongue exploring the alabaster arm of Hux, he took his problem at hand, knowing perfectly he would despise himself for the weakness when morning comes.

Deep down, he suspected he would be hard-pressed to forget the moment when Hux had made the mistake of revealing a part, as tiny as it was, of his anatomy.


End file.
